Royal Demi-Lioness: The Story of a Lady
by Vader'sMistress
Summary: "I am not afraid of anything, except being a disappointment to myself." Lady Anne Boleyn was introduced to the court of Arthur II and his wife, Katherine of Aragon as the King's natural daughter. After that, she was given special treatment and had her last name changed to FitzRoy to emphasize her status. But the life of a royal bastard, isn't an easy one.
1. New Beginnings

A/N: This is taken from Queen Anne's challenge.

* * *

 _ **Summary: "I am not afraid of anything, except being a disappointment to myself." Lady Anne Boleyn was introduced to the court of Arthur II and his wife, Katherine of Aragon as the King's natural daughter. After that, she was given special treatment and had her last name changed to FitzRoy to emphasize her status. But the life of a royal bastard, isn't an easy one, especially when everyone is against you for the simple reason that you are you.**_

 **Chapter 1: New Beginnings**

 _"My mommy always said that monster were not real, but unfortunately they are."_ ** _-Diary of Lady Anne, Marques of Pembroke and Natural Born daughter of Arthur II and his mistress, Elizabeth Boleyn._**

When I was little I remembered seeing a man coming to our house. He said that he was royalty and after he spent long hours with my mother he would check on me. It turns out that this man was the King of England and my real father. He came out after my fourth birthday when he humiliated his Queen, the staunch Catholic, Katherine of Aragon, by parading me in front of his courtiers.

The Queen was a stout woman, who in spite of cravings, was still very beautiful. Indeed, when the King of France said something nasty about her, her husband jumped to her defense and dared him to look at her in the eye and say what he said. Katherine or Catalina as she was called in her native Castile, was the child of two powerful monarchs. Growing up, I would hear nothing but tall tales about her mother and father, that I doubted if these were true. Needless to say, I was proven wrong when the King introduced me to his wife.

She had a sweet countenance that didn't reach her eyes when she set them on me. My mother had been one of her maids of honor after she and Arthur had been crowned jointly in June of 1509. After she discovered that she was pregnant with her husband's child, she dismissed her. There was little the King could do but nod his head as his wife as she threatened to expose his sins before the court.

There was one favorite that the people whispered among themselves (because no one was brave enough to say so in front of the King, and much less the Queen whose wrath has become legendary): The King's brother, Henry Tudor, the Duke of York. He was six years younger than his sister-in-law and five years younger than Arthur. If Arthur had died on that fateful day when the plague broke out in Ludlow, five months after he and Katherine had been wed, he would have been King and it would be Katherine by his side, as his Queen.  
(I often wondered what kind of King, Henry would have made, but such thoughts are wasted since what-ifs are pointless. There is only the here and now.)  
He immediately came to his sister's side and said that I took after my father _"which is to her detriment since she will now be mistaken for our fine little princes."_ Everyone laughed at this.

It is no secret that I look like a boy. That I have never been the stunning beauty that I would have loved to be, especially when I am compared to the other highborn ladies of the court. My mother says that my time will come but for a child who is often the butt of jokes, it seems impossible. Then there is my surrogate father, Sir Thomas Boleyn who was amply rewarded. He is a daring man, someone who is not afraid to say what is on his mind. He is also opportunistic, switching sides as often as he changes his clothing.

Mother says that she loves him dearly. "Almost as dearly as you love His Majesty, the King, my lord father?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

She says nothing, choosing instead to kiss my forehead then blows out the candles and closes the door behind her. This is the first time I have slept in a bed as big as this, with an army of attendants sleeping in lower quarters, ready to dress me and do whatever I tell them to do. Some are nobles and these sleep in better quarters. I am not sure if I will ever be accustomed to such delicacies. It doesn't feel right.

"You will get used to it."

I open my eyes. "Who is there?" I ask, it comes almost as a whisper. Could it be one of the Queen's henchmen who's come to murder me? No, that can't be. The Queen's bouts of jealousy are infamous, but she can't be that stupid.

My fears are assuaged once the door opens and a little girl (my age) comes holding a candle. "Hello."

"Hello." I say back. "Who are you?"

She smiles and sets the candle on the drawer next to my bed and gets in with me. I look at her with such hostility that it forces her to speak again, and justify her actions. "See this?" She says holding out her left hand. In the middle finger there is a ring. I recognize it immediately.

"Oh."

"Exactly."

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your mom, your brothers or …" I don't know –I think "hating me?" I blurt out.

She giggles and slaps my shoulder playfully. "How could I hate my sister?"

"I am afraid I don't understand."

She sighed. "Look my mom doesn't like your mom and I bet yours is still sore after what the Queen said about her, but just because our moms hate each other, doesn't mean we have to hate each other too."

"I guess not." She has a point there. "So how did you escape from your army of servants? I can barely escape mine."

"Oh that," she waves her hand dismissively then gets underneath the covers and closer to me. "I just used one of the secret passageways."

"What passageways? I thought there were none." I was stunned, Richmond Palace had been remodeled after Henry Tudor, the first Tudor monarch, became King of England.

"Well, technically no. The old passageways are gone but some remain and more have been added. Only a select few know." She said.

"Like you?"

"No. I am not allowed to know, but Marion, one of my older brothers snuck into daddy's offices"

"Marion?" I was struggling very hard not to laugh.

Sadly, it was a battle I was losing because Princess Mary saw it and yelled. "Hey! Marion is a decent name. He was named after the Virgin Mary, just as I was, and after our aunt, the Queen Dowager."

I nod, biting my lower lip to keep myself from saying a joke I just thought about thanks to her brother (I guess mine now too) ridiculous name.

"Anyway, he saw the plans and shared them with me. I can tell you all about them after we wake up and get ready for the joust."

"I am not sure your mother would agree-"

"She doesn't have to know and besides, you need a friend and what better friend than me." She said then blew out the candle. Without giving me a chance to tell her that I didn't want her (or me) to get in trouble, she wraps her arms around me and says "Good night."

"Good night." I say back. Maybe being here would not be so bad after all.


	2. When you are forced into silence

**Chapter 2: When you are forced into silence**

 _"Some people you can beat them and beat them and they don't complain. They welcome the pain. Because they have nothing else besides that to keep them company at night." **~Uncovered Diary of Princess Mary "Stained Rose" Tudor**_

One of the things that I envy Mary for is that she can do and say whatever she wants, and she never gets in trouble for it. Don't get me wrong, I love Mary. She is a good companion but sometimes I got the feeling that the only reason she hung around with me was because I reminded her how good her life was.

"Everyone wants to stick next to the lesser person." I heard my father tell the Queen once. We were at a charity event in Hampton Court Palace –one of the most splendid palaces in the country that Cardinal Thomas Wolsey built for himself. After the Cardinal reminded my father of his generosity, my father joked that it was actually him who was generous for accepting the Cardinal's gift. As usual, everyone laughed at his joke. It didn't take too long for the Queen to smile in my direction and look at me with those fake, generous eyes and say that some people love to make a big drama out of everything. That is when my father said what he said, and the Queen set her eyes on me once again.

Everyone loves the Queen. Hardly anyone speaks ill of her. And why should they? Even when she is ugly, she is beautiful. She may be plump, but her face is still heart-shaped and attractive while mine is skinny. When people look at me, they don't see a princess, they merely see a bastard –an ugly bastard at that.

I put down my book. My surrogate father loves to read all kinds of forbidden books and I don't care about them, since I hardly care about anything as long as it brings me something.

 **(See, that was the difference, even in the earlier days, between me and my father's courtiers. I always knew what I wanted, but I was too good to get it because I lived under this bubble that only the righteous get what they want. Meanwhile the so called righteous took advantage of me and employed all kinds of dirty tactics to sully my name.)**

The Queen said that same day when I voiced my opinions on some of the classical writers –whose translated copies I had borrowed from Mary's mini-library- that I was too inexperienced to talk about such thing and should be quiet when grown ups are talking. I could already tell then, what her tone would be regarding me.

"Dear sweet Lady Anne, the writers of these books were experienced men and women whom we must thank God for their wisdom. When you are questioning their judgment while agreeing with them on other issues, you must decide on what front you stand. You can't serve two masters lady bird."

 _As you and your church serve two?_ I wanted to say but kept my mouth shut, obeying her commands like one good obedient drone, while my father tried to ameliorate the situation by switching to a friendlier subject.

"What are you writing?" I turn my head and see Mary standing in the doorway. She has several books in her hands. I don't bother to ask you how she got past my servants since my little sister is far sneakier than I will ever be.

"Nothing in particular. I was just writing my thoughts." I say non-chalantly.

"That is not nothing. Let me see." I hand her the diary. She takes my pen and quill and marks off a word and substitute it for a 'better' one. "You shouldn't use that type of language when you are writing your memoirs. Plato sure didn't."

"Plato didn't write any memoirs except for his master and those rarely count since no one was there to see if what he wrote was true or not."

"It still counts. Are you still upset over what my mother said last week on Easter?" I nod my head. "You shouldn't be. You take things too hear too much Anne, if you just shut off what people say to you, you wouldn't be bothered too much."

 _Easy for you to say Mary, you are a Princess_.

"Here, I brought more books so we can discuss them. Some of these are written by Sir More himself. He was my teacher for a year, you know?"

"Oh." I say, trying to sound interested.

"He taught me astronomy. Even though he is not an expert, he loves to watch the stars and theorize all kinds of things so he gave me all the books from his library and I asked daddy if he could let me have some of his old books from the time that brother Andre taught him, and he said yes. See? These are some of them. Sir More also taught me most of the liberal arts and even brought some of his daughters to play with me."

"He sounds like quite a person."

The Thomas More that my parents had talked about was exactly like that, but my mother's husband had a different opinion of him. He was rude, his opinions obsolete, and if he ever found our stash of secret books, he would burn us all.  
There is no doubt in my mind that his daughters are of the same mind.

"He is. You should come tomorrow to the school room daddy built next to our brother's chambers. His daughters will be there along with his adopted daughter Mercy. Did you know that he has adopted many children? My mother says it is because his heart is filled with the light of the holy spirit. I think it is because he likes helping people out."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

She doesn't answer. She hands me back my diary, then puts two of the books she brought underneath my pillows "so I can make sure you read them before we go to see the More sisters tomorrow."

I have to hand it to her. When it comes to getting something, Mary knows how to get it without being too pushy or coming off as dominant.

* * *

We did go to see the More girls the following day.

The first one I see when I enter the room is a rather tall one which I assume is the adopted one since the others are too short. "You're Mercy?" I ask shyly.

"You are an observant one, aren't you?" She asks with a soft smile. "Just kidding, and yes I am. Margaret Giggs is the name but my friends call me Mercy."

"Nice to meet you Mercy, is it okay for me to call you that?"

"Sure. This is not the Sultan's Harem where we all compete to see who is the better woman. You are Anne Boleyn, right?" I nod. For being adopted and Sir Thomas More's ward, she sure was bold. "The king's natural born daughter? Relax, I don't pass judgment, I am a bastard myself so I could care less."

"You? But I heard that -"

"I was abandoned by my mother's family because they didn't have any money and the good lord, our tenant, out of the goodness of his heart, took me in?" I nod. "That is a lie and you would do good not to believe anything they say around this court. The truth is, my mother got very close with one of these rich kids and his father was so upset when he found out he was going to have a grandson from a lowly born woman, that he threatened my parents if they didn't stop seeing each other."

"That is terrible! What kind of man would do that to his grandchild?" I knew about terrible courtiers who would force their daughters to the altar and say all kinds of things to convince their sons to marry complete strangers, but this was something else.

"That is my grandfather."

"You mean that man is still alive?" I ask and then I pry further. "Who is he?"

"It doesn't matter, what matters is that I have a home now. Things were really bad for me and my mum. People would point fingers at her and say 'oh … heretic'. Half of them didn't know what heretic meant but it has been the 'it' word to condemn people to the fires because they spouse reform, so they used it. The correct word would have been adulterer. If I was an ignorant villager, that's the one I would have used. Sooooo two months after she died, Sir Thomas More heard of my plight and he offered my grandparents a good sum of money to hand me over to him and I know what you're thinking but it wasn't like that. Sir Thomas More is a good man. He gave me food, a good roof over my head and an education."

It sounded to me like Sir Thomas More's _kindness_ was nothing more than profiteering. As long as he kept his wards and offspring educated, clothed and fed, who cared what he was doing to his tenants in his basement (for the slightest offences) or said about heretics.

But I kept my opinions to myself (once again). Mercy is clearly a fan of Sir Thomas, and she feels like she owes him, so naturally anything I say that is contrary to that, will create a rift between us. And I don't want that. Not when the two of us have started off so well.

But surprise, surprise, guess who comes our way?

"Meg, this is my sister. Anne this is Meg. Meg, Anne. Anne, Meg. Now we are all friends."

Poor Mary, so sweet and naïve. One smile and she can convince everyone, but when it comes to me. My face gives me away.

"Pleasure. Margaret More." She says curtsying to me.

I am flattered and I curtsy back which makes her giggle. Mind you, not a mindless giggle like the kind you hear from pampered nobleman's daughters. It's more of a 'oh my' giggle that you would use on someone whom you have a low opinion of.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask, and it comes a bit hostile.

"Oh no, Anne. You did nothing wrong, Meg was just laughing about a joke I told her earlier." Mary says.

"Good curtsy, I learned how to do the perfect curtsy when I was four from my lady mother. She was a perfect lady."

"I have heard. Lady Alice Middleton is a woman of pure grace-"

"Lady Alice is my stepmother, I am talking about my real mother, Lady Joan." She says, giving me a smile that reminds me of the Queen's, although Meg's is less condescending.

"Who taught you Anne?"

"My mother."

"Shame, you could use a few tips from more … experienced ladies. It takes more than just appearance to make a lady. Not that you would know." She says and her sisters, except her adoptive sister Mercy, laugh.

 **(Years from then, I would meet Margaret More again. Desperate and afraid, she would beg my forgiveness for everything she said about me and mother.)**

Mary comes to my side and grabs my hand. We are only seven. It has been years since we forged a friendships, but even when she is here, I feel completely alone. I smile at them, the best smile I can muster and tell them that I forgot something in my room and turn around, ignoring Mary.

* * *

You want to know the truth about people? Ask someone who has met all kinds of them, from every walk of life, and she will tell you, they all reek.

It is not so much what Meg said about me and my mother that made me feel this way, it was the way she said it. The same way the Queen said it.

If they were outright attacking me with insults and other kind of foul language, I could handle it because I know who the enemy is and what their intent are. But when they are smiling me, saying those things with a straight face, and sounding so normal and gentle, then it becomes harder.

"Why must being a kid be so hard?" I wonder aloud. I can't wait to be an adult so I don't have to deal with this.


	3. Honey & Vinegar

**A/N: Thanks to all the wonderful reviews!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Honey & Vinegar**

 ** _"If there is one thing I learned from secret-dealings and false oaths is that when you think you are doing something wrong, you must stop and think to yourself 'what is it the other going to do?' And if the answer is 'he will stab me' or 'betray me some other way' then you know what you have to do."  
_** _~Second book of Lady Anne FitzRoy from the lost Annals of Tudor History; first edition 1568_

Today was my sister's birthday and the celebration of the Queen's churching. After much trying, she had another child. A healthy baby girl she named after her mother, Isabella. But our father wasn't happy with her choice of name so he added a second one: Elizabeth. The Queen screamed. She reminded him that "I am the Queen of England" and such and such, and didn't stop complaining for about a week until one of her ladies finally shut her up.

 **(People today admire Katherine because she is everything a wife should be. But nobody knew the deceptive, hypocritical, conniving woman I did growing up. If they had, they would not be throwing roses at her grave and praying 'God save Queen Katherine, she was such a sweet woman. May God keep her in his kingdom' over and over again.)**

I gave Mary my favorite drawing. Lately I had developed a liking for it, I memorized every portrait on every castle and then drew them (with my own modifications, of course). Mary loved it, she showed it to her mom who said it was sweet, then I heard from my half sister Mary Boleyn, that she told her other maids that it was the most hideous thing she ever saw.

"You don't have to be friends with her, you know." Mary Boleyn tells me that night. "They are never going to like you. That is how these royals are."

"Are you telling me from experience or you just want to annoy the hell out of me?" Mary rolls her eyes. I sigh. "I am sorry, I don't like being rude but I can't help it when she says these things about me and everyone is so stupid not to see her true face."

"That's because people are stupid, including you, ugly-face. Look Anne, you are not pretty, you are not one of them, you just have to face facts. You are Anne FitzRoy and that is all you will ever going to be."

"Thanks."

"Don't be like that. I am saying this to protect you. I want what is best for you and I wish you and mom could see that. You always love to put your trust in miserable people and you always get hurt. Stop being a people please and be a doer."

"And how do you suggest I do that when I am only going to be Anne FitzRoy?"

"Easy. Be who you are. We all have roles to play, take pride in the role that life has given you. Believe me, if there is one thing these uptight royals hate, is when people are no longer hurt by their insults." She says then tells me goodnight and leaves.

I often make fun of Mary because she is so pretty, and I am not. And when we were little I would always take her dolls and hide them –until I found out that she no longer cared about them. But there is so much more to my sister than meets the eye. People call her the "great prostitute" and probably she deserves that name, but she is no fool. She has learned a lot from her affairs with King Francois I and Duke Henry, yet she rarely speaks of politics unless it is with our father, so, if she is talking to me is because she genuinely cares for my safety and doesn't want to see me get hurt the way she was hurt by these men.

I should listen to her. But then again … why should I? I am the king's daughter, a bastard and the only good thing I will ever achieve is having people laugh behind my back my entire life.

I hate life. And I hate this court! It would have been better if my mother never got involved with King Arthur, if I never knew he was my father, if none of this ever happened and I was just back to being plain old good Anne, the nobody who nobody cares about.

* * *

The years went by quickly. I made some "friends" at Hampton, which was my father's new palace that Cardinal Wolsey had built for himself but gave it to him nonetheless so he could keep his royal favor. Some of these were the lesser Mores, as I like to call them. The ones who aren't good enough for the likes of high and mighty Maggie More (now Roper) and the other self-declared intellectuals. Among them, were the Percys whose only credit was their name. Their heir, Henry Percy, was not that bad but there was this ugly (uglier than me) girl hanging around him all day called Mary something. Every time they are together, I just want to grab his hand and hide him. It is so sad, I have never seen someone cling to somebody so desperately.

We would read endlessly in our rooms, and dance when we felt like it, and nobody would say nothing to us. There was a girl that used to frequent our 'secret society' called Nathalia Ruth, last name Martinez. She was so good at first. She had a lot of talents and I encouraged her to convince her mother to teach her how to read and write in Greek and Latin the way my father did with mine; but after she started getting noticed by many boys, she forgot all about us. The last I have heard of her is that she married some guy named Rodolfo. A foreigner, also from Spain, whose parents are part of some the London guilds and good friends with the Queen and her nephew, and she enjoys a good life at the countryside, getting involved in her husband's businesses, when he is away.

I am not going to lie. I envy her. When my sister, Princess Mary, heard me say that I wish all Spaniards would sink to the bottom of the sea, she was very hurt and said I shouldn't generalize. Maggie More accused of me being xenophobic, and there was this girl, Marion who also accused me of the same. I told them I am not xenophobic. I have nothing against foreigners, but I do take it personal when people who cry all day long that nobody likes them, and come to your doorstep seeking your friendship and stab you in the back, pretending you betrayed them over nothing, then there is a problem.

I address this problem again with my peers. We were all about the same age, twelve, eleven, thirteen, some younger, seven, eight. We all had the same objective: Read, dance, have fun. The things royals take for granted.

"I understand your plight Anne, but you are never going to get on top of the world if you persist with this childish attitude." Henry Percy tells me.

"Childish?" How can he say that? I am not the hypocrite here, telling my Spanish ladies –who laugh along like they're mindless idiots- while the English ones just nod their heads and giggle because (let's face it) they have nothing better to do.

Henry Percy laughs at me and shakes his head. "Royals are royals, you said it but you are never going to change things if you hotly disagree on every topic. You made your sister, Her Highness, Princess Mary cry last time because of what you said about her mother, the Queen."

"I didn't criticize her mother, I was merely stating the obvious regarding back-stabbers."

"That is what I am talking about Anne. If you want to get across these people, play their game."

"How?" I raise my hands in the air. "When everyone tells me 'it will get better Anne' 'No, Anne you must be assertive.' As if I am incapable of understanding." Why do people always talk to me like I am an idiot? It is like I can't communicate with anyone!

"You can make yourself heard across the room from a mile away and maybe that is the problem. These people don't want to hear a girl who shouts, even when what she says is right. They want to hear someone pliant, who plays their game, laughs at their jokes while pointing out their flaws in a subtle manner."

"So, a doormat."

"No, of course not. Who ever said that you have to be pliant? You just have to look them in the eye, smile, laugh if you must, and then give a polite reply."

For a boy he sure knows a lot. "How is it that a boy from the North who hates these things becomes an expert overnight?"

"Experience."

I cock my head, incredulous.

"My father's advice had to play a part, but mostly it is through observation. People fail in large part because they can't communicate accurately."

"Is that your father or you speaking?"

"Me. Take a good look at them, learn from them, what makes them tick, what gets them hooked and before you know it, you will have them in the palm of your hand."

* * *

I do follow Henry's advice and it works. It doesn't make things better for me overnight, but I start seeing the changes. My mother notices them too and congratulates me. "I always knew you could do it if you put your mind to it." She says to me that night.

 **(Unknown to me then, that was the start of something greater. Just when I thought that all my options were closed, when nothing good was ever going to come, I had begun to look forward with a positive outlook –And no, this did not mean praying, or wishing for something better. Rather, I visualized what I wanted and without feeling any ounce of regret, I sought to get it.)**

My new motto, I write the next day on my diary, has become "the most happy" which is a code for "when everyone else steps on you, don't look back and step on them." The Queen was right in her approach. Her generosity made her a great contender, her biggest weapons were her smile and her kind, loving eyes. And if I want to destroy her and her circle, I will have to best her at her game.


End file.
